Spookychild’s writings

“Katana!” Her aunt bellowed.

Katana stopped in the doorway. She turned slowly to look at her aunt. Her aunt was on her feet, arms crossed. She didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. Her aunt was the one that had called her.

“Katana, I have just about had it. You come in here, I make the food I set the table and you don’t lift a finger to help me. What have I been raising you for? Am I just supposed to do everything for you till you die? I am going to die first. What are you going to do then, hu? Just sit around and paint that God damn cemetery until you die of hunger in a pile of crap? I mean you don’t cook, you don’t clean, you don’t eat, I am surprised you know how to change your clothes and take a bath. My God.” she threw her hands up. And then pointed a finger at Katana. “You come over here.” She pointed to the sink. “You wash the dishes, all of them, the ones I used to cook and ate off of too.”

Katana’s eyes had been getting wider and wider as her aunt talked. She could feel tears now, she never cried. She hadn’t even cried when her parents had died. But she could feel them now, they wanted to pour down her face. Katana felt sick. She felt as if she could throw up. But she didn’t. She moved to the sink and turned on the water and began to scrub.

Aunt Eloise watched her for a moment then she turned, stuffed the food into her mouth and snatched up the dishes off the table. She marched to the sink, threw the dishes into the water with a plop, causing Katana to jump. Her aunt swiveled on her heel and went back to the table and washed it up. She found a few things to put away. She was ready for Katana by the time she finished with the dishes.

As soon as Katana was finished with the dishes she turned towards the door to the living room. But her aunt was there in the way. She was glaring at her again. Katana stared at her saying nothing. She felt as if she couldn’t move.

Her aunt pointed in the direction of the cemetery and began. “I don’t want to ever come home and find you painting that cemetery again, do you understand? I don’t want you looking at it. I don’t want to see any more pictures or painting laying around. I have had it with that cemetery, or I swear to God, I will rip up the next drawing of it I find!” Aunt Eloise crossed her arms and waited for a reply.

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But Ana was slowly slipping. The woman had ahold of her right ankle. It burned and felt as though someone was being yanked off her body, tearing flesh and bone. Ana was gritting her teeth and holding on with every ounce of strength she had, but the woman was also yanking with all the force and weight she possessed.

“Ana, ” Leo whispered, searching her face. Something was wrong; he felt certain something had happened to the lower half of her body. Ana was frozen, her jaw worked, and an expression of pain was on her face.

Ana glanced into Leo’s eyes. Her eyes were welling up with tears and Leo could see the panic Ana felt.

“Someone has my foot. ” She gasped and squeezed his hand.  “I’m being pulled off the rock—can’t hold on anymore. ” She was crying, every muscle burning. “Leo, you have to let me go. There is no point in both of us dying. “

“Ana, don’t talk like this. Ana! Try to kick the person off with your other foot. Can’t you try? Please, darling, please, I won’t let go. ” Leo searched around for another anchor to brace his body against while still holding tightly. But he was unable to find something and the hold Leo had was slipping despite best efforts as the weight of two people at the same time strained every muscle.

“I can’t move my lower half. ” She gasped. “Every time I attempt to move, pain shoots through my back. ” The panic in her eyes had now transformed into sheer terror and horror.

Leo wanted to hold her close but was unable to lift three hundred pounds of weight.  If Ana was incapable of walking, Leo would carry her. But, how would he lift her off the rock wall? 

“Ana, I love you. Please keep on holding onto me, don’t let go. ” Leo begged.

Hearing his words, Ana stared at the hand Leo held. Do not let go. Let go. If Ana let go, she would fall, and Leo would be safe. He would survive. She relaxed the muscles a little but did not want Leo to notice. Slowly, the hand began to slip out of his grasp. Resting completely, Ana glanced back into Leo’s eyes.